CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Who is he?

I paused at the door of room 115, looking down at my schedule. Eng Lit: 8:30 am. Just great. I'd successfully managed to reach there 40 minutes later. I leaned against the door knob, listening to the Mr McCoy's nosy nasal rattling " It can be well deduced that poem 'do not go gentle into that good night' by Dylan Thomas is a reflection of life at its very peak and…" till the door flew open and threw me in, landing me down splat to the marble floors. 

I slammed my eyes shut, reeling from a massive wave of self-pity and pure disgust as the bored snooze of every other student turned into chatters and giggles. 

 How could I not have realize the door was un-shut? No one leaves doors locked in high school. Just great. the perfect low-key high school life. 

" Excuse me but may I ask," Mr McCoy, a small weasel-like man asked, leaning down to peek into my eyes " who are you?" 

" Miranda reed" I mumbled, staggering up to my feet. A few snickers rang through the class as they passed my name around. 

" Weird name" 

" Yeah. Reminds me of something old"

" Like your grandmother?" The snickers rose and I looked to see a blonde girl in a tight sheath smirking at me. I averted my gaze. 

" Are you a… student?" 

" Yes sir" 

" You're 45 minutes late…" 

" Was 40 before I tripped" I muttered, looking up " I'm sorry" 

" Sorry doesn't change anything. And I don't tolerate lateness miss reed." 

" So what do I do?" i asked and he gaped at me, lost. Slightly though because he regained his composure quick. 

" You'll have to stand for ten minutes." 

" Sure sir" I said, heading for the seat right in front of me. 

" And you also get to sit at the back. Right next to the grumpiest goat you've ever seen" 

" The compliment is very much appreciated sir" A deep yet soft, throaty, raspy… smooth velvet came singing its way right up to my ears. I literally went weak on my knees when I turned. 

 Cause I was staring into the eyes of the most handsome boy I'd ever seen.